


Everything at stake

by pigalle



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftermath of brainwashing, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Guilt, Happy Ending, I swear it will be even if the first chapter doesn't seem like it, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Bucky Barnes, Past Brainwashing, Tags May Change, everything isn't as bad as it seems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7426843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pigalle/pseuds/pigalle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eventually the man opens his mouth and says, “Bucky.” The Asset can see in its handlers reaction that it isn’t the response they wants.<br/>The man reaches his right hand up to The Asset’s hand holding the knife. The Asset doesn’t flinch, but it tenses its body. But the man only rests his hand on The Assets arm, just above the wrist.<br/>~~~~~<br/>In the fight against the Winter Soldier, Natasha and Sam are separated from Steve, who is taken as a prisoner. But before they can find him it might already be too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *Not beta read*
> 
> Also, updates _might_ take a while as I'm also busy writing for the Stucky Big Bang and the H/C-bingo.

The Asset is in a room with its two handlers — the older blond one who always wears a suit, and the mean dark haired one who hurts The Asset if it doesn’t obey — and a man they keep calling Captain America.

They had told The Asset to capture the man, and to bring him here. The Asset doesn’t know why — it was always supposed to kill its targets — but do as it’s told and keeps the man still with a knife to his throat. The metal hand is in the man’s blond hair, keeping him pushed down on his knees.

At first the man refuses to answer The Asset’s handlers. They keep asking questions The Asset doesn’t understand, so it focus on keeping the man still. It can sense the irritation radiating off its blond handler and pushes the man’s head back, pressing the knife slightly harder against his throat.

Eventually the man opens his mouth and says, “Bucky.” The Asset can see in its handlers reaction that it isn’t the response they wants.

The man reaches his right hand up to The Asset’s hand holding the knife. The Asset doesn’t flinch, but it tenses its body. But the man only rests his hand on The Assets arm, just above the wrist.

“Bucky, can you hear me?” The man says, and The Asset doesn’t understand. The word must be a name, but it doesn’t think anyone in this room is named it. Its handler would have reacted if it was one if their names, so The Asset doesn’t understand why the man is addressing someone who isn’t in the room.

The Asset’s blond handler asks something more and the man turns his angry glare at him. The blond handler doesn’t seem fazed by it, but The Asset can sense him getting more irritated.

“Do you remember me?” the man says, and by the dark haired handler’s step forward The Asset doesn’t think that was the correct answer.

The hand on The Assets arm squeezes lightly and the man says, “Listen to me, Buck, it’s me.”

The Asset still doesn’t understand who “Bucky” is, or why the man is talking to it. Neither does it understand the light squeeze. Touches to The Asset isn’t light; they are hard and cruel, meaning to keep in place and punish.

The blond handler asks something else, and the man shifts his attention to him, but his hand curls around The Asset’s arm. It pushes slightly outwards, as if to test the resistance. But it is not as if it aim to hurt, and The Asset doesn’t understand that.

Despite its confusion, The Asset notice its hand relenting to the pressure, despite The Asset not telling it to.

Then the man pushes harder, probably thinking he will be able to escape, that The Asset will budge. But it doesn’t.

The man doesn’t notice until he has already begun moving, stepping forward right into the the hand The Asset hasn’t moved. Right into the knife that cut into his throat with ease.

Somehow, the man manages to says, “Bucky, I’m with you ‘til the end of the line,” before he falls into a heap on the floor.

The Asset doesn’t understand what happened. It — he? — didn’t kill him —  it?, he? — wasn’t told to, so therefore it(?) — he — didn’t do anything, but the man lays on the ground, bleeding from the wound on his throat, and the knife in The Asset’s hand has the whole blade covered in blood.

The Asset only focuses on the last words the man said. His brain is fuzzy, but something with the word feels like something he doesn’t know what it is, but like he is supposed to. He feels like maybe those words have been heard before.

The Asset feels like the name Bucky is significant somehow, and another name rises in his fuzzy brain: Steve.

The Asset realises the name belongs to the man lying dead at his feet.

It feels… right, like it is obvious that the name Steve belongs to the man. But Steve isn’t dead, but the man at his feet is.

The Asset — Bucky ? —  stares down at the man, barely hearing as his handlers walk out of the room without saying something to him. The man can’t really be Steve, because Steve isn’t supposed to die. Steve is supposed to live.

The Asset — Bucky, the man had called him that — falls down to his knees beside the man — Steve — not caring about the slowly growing pool of blood staining his clothes.

The As- Bucky, doesn’t move. He stares down at the man he is sure he knew at one point. The man that he knows he never wanted to die. He can glimpse flashes of blonde and dazzling smiles in his fuzzy mind, like the memories are there, but doesn’t want to rise. Perhaps they don’t, now that Steve is dead.

Bucky has to keep remind himself that he is Bucky, not The Asset. It’s strange, especially when it is the man in front of him that made him remember, the man that is named Steve and lays dead at his knees.

Bucky feels detatched. He distinctly knows he should feel more, that he should grief this man. But he still has to really take in that the man is Steve that he knew. He doesn't really remember much from their time together, but he knows it exist.

He stares down at Steve, trying to make sense of his feelings and fractions of memorises. The longer he looks at Steve the more he seem to remember, but as such, the more painful it becomes. He can glimpse snippets of memories where Steve is in alleys and parking lots, where there's big guys staring down at him, where Bucky steps in and helps Steve beat them. He sees flashes of Steve in bed with some diseases, both at home and in hospitals. He sees small dark haired girls running around playing, he sees said girls crowding into him and a small Steve. He sees his family, and he sees Steve's mom.

He can see them, but he can't remember their names.

At first he thinks the sound of doors opening and closing, of footsteps coming closer, is all in his head, from his memorises. But then the door to the room opens and in barges five men with machine guns held at ready. Behind them walks a man clad in a black coat and an eyepatch.

“At ease, soldier,” he says, in a way that makes Bucky feel like he isn’t talking to him. Like maybe he’s talking to Steve.

Bucky can’t see the faces of the five men, not with their protective masks covering their faces. But he can see the other man’s expression as he steps around the men and his gaze falls on Steve. His expression tells Bucky this wasn’t what he had expected.

Slowly, the man moves his gaze from Steve to Bucky, to the knife still in his hand. The he raises his hand to his ear and says, “Call in your team. Cap’s down.”

Bucky barely have time to see the small hand motion before three of the men move forward to him. In his dazed state he can’t react until they have ahold of him, hands behind his back. Two of the men holds his hands behind his back, one of them walks in front of the man, one in between Bucky and the man, and the fifth one bringing up the rear, as if maybe be able to catch Bucky if he tries to escape. They only get out the door before a team of men runs past them, probably the men the man called for.

They lead him through the building, down to the ground level, Bucky knows from the hallways he recognizes. The halls that usually have HYDRA men walking in them, but now are eerily quiet.

A caravan of sleek black cars waits outside the building, and Bucky is led to the van one of them. Two other men placed at the car opens the back, and the two men holding Bucky throws him in, where yet another man handcuffs him in place.

Bucky expects the car to drive off right away, but the car stays put after the doors have been closed. The man who cuffed him is still inside, and even though his face is obscured by a mask, Bucky knows he’s watching him.

After a moment — he thinks it’s a moment, time is strange — the back opens and a stretcher comes into his line of sight. Two men help pull it in, where they secure it and stand guard, facing Bucky. The doors closes, and in the dim lighting, he only just manage to make out the outlines of a body on the stretcher.

As the car starts, Bucky is jostled forward, towards the stretcher. As if he chose to move so, all three of the men raise their weapon, even though Bucky is in shackles. They move as if protecting something.

_ Steve _ .

He can see now that it’s Steve’s body on the stretcher, the front of his uniform soaked in blood.

As he leans forward to see better, the butt of a gun — probably a Glock — is pressed against his forehead, hard enough for him to know it will leave a mark; he’s quite familiar with guns after all.

Bucky eases back in his seat, the pressure of the gun easing up, but the man doesn't remove it at all during the rest of the trip; not even when the car comes to a stop and the stretcher is taken out by two men. Instead, as one man forces Bucky to his feet, the gun is moved so it presses into the back of his skull.

He's led out of the car, into an underground parking lot. There, three men with assault rifles — most likely M16 och M4, but he only gets a short glimpse — are waiting outside the car, two of them taking the lead as Bucky is led away, the other walking behind. But regardless of that reinforcement, the Glock isn't removed; rather, it's used to lead him away.

They lead him to an elevator, crowding into the small space with no chance of him getting enough space to escape. Though he's not sure he wants to escape just yet.

He has a mission here, right? Isn't that why he's here? He's a soldier, an asset, missions are the only reason he is anywhere else but...

When the elevator opens and they step out, it's to a room with reinforced walls, floor and ceiling and several people standing close together. One of them is covered in red and yellow metal, with only his face uncovered; his face is somehow familiar but unplaceable. There's also a black man and a white man in light gear, one with wings, the other with a bow. Right behind them is a tall blond guy with a hammer in his hand — big as it may be, it’s still impractical, the soldier knows such things.

There is only one woman, and her bright red hair is familiar, even though the soldier does not exactly have memories.

"Natalia." His voice is muffled through the muzzle and rough from lack of use, but they seem to hear him alright.

They — especially tin man — jerks in surprise. They look to her, but her face remains expressionless.

"What did you do to Steve?" she demands instead.

That reminds the soldier, and Bucky says, "Steve," looking around him, as if Steve will walk in any moment.

"Am I the only one," tin man says and steps forward, breaking Bucky from his thoughts, "that doesn't like this? That's the Winter Soldier." He points to the soldier — Bucky — at the last sentence. "You said it yourself, Natasha, he's killed a lot of people. Shouldn't he be, I don't know, locked away, or killed, or something? Not just standing there with handcuffs."

He was sure it was Natalia, but... The soldier is getting unsure of the situation. What is his mission? What is he doing here?

“Also, where is Steve? Shouldn’t he be back now, since  _ he _ is.”

The soldier — no, Bucky — turns to glare at tin man. It’s without emotions, he knows that, but he can’t seem to remember what they even are or how to show them.

A door Bucky had missed — foolish, the soldier can’t afford to miss details — opens and another man walks in. He’s in suit, and the soldier knows he can take him out if he has to.

“Coulson,” tin man says, “you should know that. What happened to Steve and why isn’t he here?”

“Steve,” Bucky says again, because he wants — no, needs — to seem him again. There are things running around in his head that he can’t make sense of, only Steve is the clear point. He knows he knew Steve, and he needs him to figure everything out.

“Steve has been...” the man — Coulson? — begins, but seem to hesitate to say the rest, “compromised.”

“What do you mean ‘compromised’?” Black-guy asks and take a few steps from the rest, a few steps towards the soldier.

The man, Coulson, doesn’t answer, and just then Bucky notice the guy with the bow watching him. His forehead is creased as if in thought, and his staring is not one the soldier likes.

“Why do you keep saying Steve?” he asks and slowly walks towards Bucky. “How do you know him, and who are you? You’re the Winter Soldier, yes, but there’s more to it, something else.”

Bucky doesn’t understand what he means. How can he be something more than just the soldier if he doesn’t know it himself? He isn’t anyone, just someone who Steve called Bucky. That’s the only thing he knows, and he needs Steve to figure out the rest.

“Steve,” he says again, calling for him, looking around for him.

Suit-man sighs and raises his hand to his ear, presses a small device there and says, “Bring him here.”

The elevator behind Bucky starts sounding a moment later, and when he tries to turn to look at it, the gun pressed against his skull stops him. When the door opens and the sound of squeaky wheels rolls over the floor, the group in front of him gasps.

Bucky knows right then that it’s Steve.

Carefully he looks around him, counts the three men with the assault rifles, knows the guy with the Glock is right behind him.

While the group in front of him is distracted, he rips the cuffs of with his metal hand, barely registering the harsh scratch of it against his flesh on his right wrist. He then spins around quickly, hitting the man in the face as he kicks him in the junk. Using the man’s gun, he shoots the other three and the man in quick succession. Bang, bang, bang, bang; all four men dead.

He’s already running towards Steve when the group realises what’s happened.

When they do, he has three guns, an arrow, and a glowing hand turned to him, ready to fire.

And when Bucky finally skids to a halt, the stretcher with Steve on it is between him and the group.

Suddenly, the hammer is hurtling towards him, and in annoyance he reaches out and catches it with his left hand, his right occupied by the gun. See, hammers aren’t good fight weapons these days. What good will a hammer do even if it’s big when he can just catch it?

"Ah," hammer-guy smiles, and claps his hands together in ... delight? "He is worthy!"

He looks down at the hammer, trying to see what is causing hammer-guy such delight. He can’t see anything special about it, aside from the markings, which really can’t be that important. He’s just about to inspect them closer, when the hammer starts slipping from his grip. He tries to secure his grip, but the metal arm doesn’t respond.

There’s a little device on the metal, one he’s sure wasn’t there before. He looks up to see the woman with her arm stretched out as if she’d thrown something, and then the world tilts. Or rather, he falls forward, down onto Steve’s lifeless body.

Then it’s a flurry of movement, and the soldier is in shackles again, this time stronger ones, with chains down to his feet. The metal of it is cold and stinging against the open skin on his flesh wrist, though whatever paralysed his metal arm makes him barely feel it.

They lead him away, but before they leave the room, a blindfold is put over his eyes, that with the muzzle cover his whole face. When they begin walking again, the soldier feels disorientated, even though he must have gotten training in this. He’s lead through corridors, up and down stairs, and even once in an elevator. He can recognize an attempt to disorient him, but knows it’s fruitless — he wouldn’t have known where he was even without the blindfold, since he doesn’t know what building they’re in and therefore not the layout of it.

They temporarily stop where the soldier can hear multiple locks, and then a few steps forward before the process is repeated. Finally, there is a sound that reminds the soldier suspiciously much of a cell door being unlocked. He’s moved forward again, the sound of chains coming up close to him, before a weight is added to the shackles.

When the blindfold is removed, he can see the redheaded woman leave through the bars just in front of him. He’s in a small cell with rough surface on walls and floor, double bars, and a thick chain attached to the wall in the back is the only thing aside from himself inside there.

Even with his strong metal arm, he won’t get out in any foreseeable future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will get better. Eventually.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian translations are linked to the end notes.

The Asset sits idly on the floor as it tries to come up with a way to get out. Something is wrong, because its handlers never comes, and it’s never brought to one of the cryo freezer rooms. Sometimes it comes a person, but none that The Asset can recognize. Its body feels wierd and weak, its stomach sometimes growling. It can’t figure out how to stop it, and no one comes to do a damage check.

The Asset is left almost completely alone.

As the days — is it days? The Asset isn’t sure how time works — goes by, The Asset gets more and more desperate to get out to finish its mission. Maybe that is why they don’t do damage check, because it has yet to finish its mission?

The people who come never speaks, but now seem to be an exception, as The Asset can hear a voice say: "Not there, that's where we keep the Winter Soldier."

"Oh come on, I just want to see him, see if he's as scary as they say."

"Fine, but don't tell Natasha."

Two people come into view, one of them the bow-guy from before, the other a young female. Her eyes are wide and scared, thought she seem to try and hide that fact. The Asset can take her out in seconds if it has to. No other casualties are preferable, not necessary.

"He doesn't look that scary," the female says with wavering voice. She looks at The Asset, and just then its stomach growls again.

"Проверить повреждений [1]," it says, sounding wierd through the mask.

"When did he last get food?" the female says, flickering her gaze to bow-guy.

"Dunno," bow-guy says with a shrug. "I haven't been in charge at all, Natasha has had it this whole week since he came. Don't see why she can't give it to someone else soon."

The female bends forward slightly, as if studying The Asset. Her eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and then she says: “Why do you think he tried to get to Steve so much? Didn’t he, like, kill him?”

_ Steve! _

The Asset raises his head slowly, looking at the female through his hair. What does she know? Steve is important, the soldier knows that, but he doesn’t know how yet. Maybe he can help him with the malfunctioning?

“I have no idea,” bow-guy replies. “But he’s the Winter Soldier, he’s kinda screwed up, so I wouldn’t trust him if that’s what you want to do.”

He takes her arm and they walk away, leaving the soldier by himself.

~~~~~

The soldier is alone for a long time after that, slumped up against the wall. He’s saving energy to break free from the shackles. Steve is out there somewhere, and he needs him to figure out the spinning of his head. His stomach is still growling, but it’s getting easier to ignore, like the sensation is getting familiar.

It’s when he feels himself slipping, falling to the floor, that he’s had enough. If he’s ever going to have a chance to get free, he has to try now. He flexes the metal arm, taking a grip of the chains. He knows that if he just rips, he will damage his flesh hand, and that isn’t optimal at the moment. He slips a few fingers under, a few above, and presses. It takes a few moments, but eventually the chain breaks; he does the same and remove the shackles from his wrists and ankles.

Just as the chain clatters to the floor, there is a sound at the door, and the female who visited with bow-guy turns up at the bars.

“Hi,” she says, giving a small wave. “I’m Jennie.” She trails off, looking to the floor. The soldier looks at her, waiting for the rest. It’s the first time any of them has talked to him.

She holds up a bag of something and says, “I brought food for you. I just, I heard that you were hungry, and I can’t just let them not give you any food.”

She puts the bag on the floor and reaches inside her pocket. The soldier tenses, suddenly on alert, but he doesn’t rise from the floor just yet. When she takes her hand out of the pocket, there is a small metal object gleaming that she moves up to the lock on the bars. A key.

As she opens the bar and walks in with the bag, the soldier thinks  _ Stupid _ , and stands up. Before she can react or do anything, the soldier moves forward, locking his metal arm around her neck. With a quick movement he snaps her neck and let her fall to the floor, her lips parted in surprise and eyes open wide.

The soldier only spare her a quick glance before going out the door in the bars. The other door is also open, and on a small table beside it is a gun.

“Глупый [2],” the soldier mutters under his breath, but picks up the gun. It weighs nice and familiar in his hand, and he sets of running down the hall.

He’s gotten four floors down, when he runs into the redhead. She looks surprised for only a moment before she attacks him. He manages to get in a shot in her leg before she has them wrapped around his neck. He presses his metal fingers into the wound, and she lets out a sound of pain, and her thighs relax enough for him to be able to throw her off. He slams her against the floor, wraps his metal hand around her throat. She resists, tries to get him off, but his grip is strong.

It looks for a moment like she will pass out, but then she opens her mouth and says, “Sputnik,” and blackness surrounds the soldier.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ###### Translations:
> 
> 1\. ( _Proverit' povrezhdeniy_ ) damage check [back to text]
> 
> 2\. ( _Glupyy_ ) stupid [back to text]


	3. Chapter 3

“Why can’t you let me in to see him, Natasha?”

“Because, the last time someone went in there, there was casualties. And you, especially, shouldn’t go near him again. Not with his programming.”

“Are you calling her a casualty? Maybe if you’d kept better guard she wouldn’t have been able to get in! And I will be fine.”

“The full responsibility lies with the Winter Soldier. He was the one to kill her.”

“He’s been brainwashed, he isn’t in control over his actions!”

“Like he wasn’t in control when he-”

“Don’t!” the male voice growls. “He. Is. Not. In. Control! He’s not to blame! But none of you seem to think that, not with the way you treat him.”

The female mutters something the soldier can’t quite catch, but it sounds almost like ‘he killed you’.

A while ago the soldier had woken up, with extra reinforced shackles around his wrist and ankles. In a panic he'd tried to get up, knowing only that he had to get to Steve. Since then he has been left alone; up until now.

Two people steps into view — the redhead from before, and a tall, muscular blond man. Something about him is familiar, but the soldier doesn’t know what. The man walks to the bars and put a key to the lock, despite the woman trying to stop him. The blond just shrugs her off and unlocks the door. He steps in, not bothering to close the door behind him.

The man walks slowly towards the soldier, and crouches down just in front of him. He looks like he’s trying not to show emotions, but his eyes practically radiates desperation, but for what the soldier can’t understand.

“Bucky,” the man says and reaches his hand out to touch the soldier’s flesh shoulder.

That’s when it hits him like a flood wave. “Steve.” His voice is low and broken, but Steve hears him, if the look of pure hope is anything to go on.

“Well, fuck.”

Bucky doesn’t pay the woman any notice. It’s Steve, right here in front of him! Shakily, he lifts his hand to touch him, has to be really sure that he is real. Steve takes his hand, squeezes lightly and gives a fond smile.

“Steve,” Bucky says again, so overwhelmed by the spinning of images and memories in his head to utter anything else. He can’t make sense of almost any of them, and a lot scares him, but he  _ knows _ Steve can help him. He  _ needs _ Steve, needs him like water, like air.

“C’mon Bucky,” Steve says and helps him to his feet, and first then does he realise that the shackles have been removed.

Steve helps him move to the door, and the woman protests for only a moment until Steve shoots her a look. He continues towards the door with Bucky, and only says over his shoulder, “Call for the others for a meeting in ten.”

“Глупый ебаный идиот [3],” Bucky hears her mutter before they turn down a hall.

Steve walks with determined steps, Bucky trailing after him. He is amazed Steve trusts him enough to do that, that he doesn't keep an eye on him, that he doesn't hold him there.

Bucky studies him, taking in the tired lines on his face, the way his body seem to move heavily, but he's trying to mask it up. Bucky doesn't know how he can be so sure of it, but it's like a second nature to him; a need to know how Steve is feeling so he can protect him.

There's a thin line of white running across Steve's neck, the only trace left of what Bucky is sure he did. It's there as a hazy memory in his mind, and the words the redhead said.

At the end of the hall Steve turns to the elevator and Bucky tenses. Elevators are small, reminding him too much of the cryo and the cell he was just in. He doesn't say anything, but Steve turns to the stairwell instead, like he thought that would be better. Not a word about Bucky's own uncomfort. They take the stairs a few floors up, and then walk into another hallway.

Steve pauses outside one of the doors, opens his mouth but doesn't say anything.

"I'm sorry," he says after a moment, looking at the floor. "For not looking for you, for letting HYDRA get to you. For how they kept you here, for not coming sooner. They didn't... they didn't say they had you — if they had, I would have come sooner. I'm sorry, Buck. No one should be treated like this. And I'm sorry for what you probably will have to deal with inside here." He nods to the door at the last sentence, and Bucky guesses this must be where the meeting he mentioned earlier will be. He doesn't know what he should think.

"I won't let them get away with saying just anything, but... I know what they think about you, and they only see you as ... the Winter Soldier. For them, Bucky is dead, because they don't know what I do." Steve has stepped closer, is just inches away from Bucky. Strangely, he doesn't feel threatened by it. "I know that you aren't the same Bucky as before the war, and that you probably never fully will be — but I don't care. I just want you to have the chance to a kinda normal life. One where you won't be controlled by HYDRA."

Steve is looking down at him with so much adoration and emotions in his eyes, Bucky almost forgets how to breath. It isn't fair, how much Steve seem to care about him despite everything he's done. He's a monster, and there is no getting away from that; but Steve doesn't seem to share those thoughts. It's overwhelming.

Steve reaches his hand up to touch Bucky's cheek, and he automatically leans into the touch. He feels strangely disappointed when he realises Steve only did it to remove the muzzle.

"You don't need this," Steve says, his voice soft, and lets it drop to the floor. "You're not being controlled anymore, you're free to say and do anything you want."

Bucky opens his mouth, testing the way the air feels rushing in fresh when he takes a deep breath. The skin on his jaw feels strange and cold being directly exposed to the air. But Bucky still likes the immediate freedom of not having the muzzle; it's like a string connecting him to HYDRA has been cut off. Tentatively he reaches his flesh hand up to let the fingers brush against the light stubble, scratching his nails on a sudden itch.

Sure, it's a freedom, but Bucky can't help a part of him feeling terrified of what HYDRA will do to him now that he's disobeyed orders.

Bucky is grounded back in the present by the light brush of Steve's fingers against his own. Steve's smiling — the way he does when he doesn't realise he's doing it — looking at where their fingers meet.

“You’re your own free person now,” Steve says, letting his fingers linger on Bucky’s. “And I guess that includes your name, too. If… if you don’t want to be Bucky anymore, I’ll understand.”

Bucky believes the honesty in his voice, but he can read those eyes, and they tell a whole different story. Bucky thinks Steve doesn’t know how to do anything other than say he’ll understand.

“I don’t know who I am when I’m not Bucky,” he settles for saying.

“That’s what you’ll need to figure out. I’ll help you, of course. But I can’t tell you who you are, even if I know who you were. It’s… it’s never easy having people tell you who you are supposed to be.”

Something with his expression when he says it makes Bucky think he has his own experience of it. And maybe he has, with the public knowing of Captain America and thinking they know what he is supposed to be. Bucky thinks that maybe he can remember something like that from before … his imprisonment.

“We should get in there, the others are probably waiting by now.” Steve turns away from him, dropping his hand, like he doesn't want to show a vulnerable side even to his oldest friend. But then again, is Bucky really still that person?

"Your ma's name was Sarah," Bucky says when a sudden memory hits him, right before Steve can get the door open. "You used to wear newspaper in your shoes."

“Yeah, that’s right, Buck,” Steve says, his smile all too fond for such simple memorises.

“You were so small,” Bucky says slowly, “and sickly. How did you survive?”

Steve gives him a small smile. “It was a mystery, wasn’t it? I did nearly die a few times, so, there’s that.”

Steve pushes down the handle of the door and they walk in together, Bucky staying behind Steve. He knows that whoever is in there doesn't exactly like him, and from what he’s seen so far, Steve will protect him.

Around a table the people he met when he first got here are sitting, except for tin man who stands up when they enter. He’s not wearing the metal now, but rather an expensive looking suit. He’s the furthest away from the door, with all the others like a wall between him and Bucky. Natalia, Natasha — whatever her name — is sitting in the chair closest to the door, her eyes following him and Steve as they step in the room.

"Cap," tin man says, his stance tense and guarded. "I don't know what's gotten in your mind, but you need to stop. He's a killer, not someone you take for a walk around my tower."

"Stop." Steve's voice is hard, and he angles his body to shield Bucky from the others.

Hammer-gut stands up, and for a brief moment Steve turn to him with his stance tense, as if just waiting for him to attack Bucky. However, hammer-guy is smiling and extending his hand.

“This is how you greet someone here in this world, is it not?” he says when Bucky only stares at the hand. “I am Thor, and you must be Steve’s shieldmate, is that right?”

Steve opens his mouth slightly, the way Bucky suddenly knows he does when he doesn’t know what to say.

"Yeah, you could say that," Steve says after Bucky has just stared at Thor's hand for a moment. He doesn't know if that is the custom of how to greet someone.

Steve, standing on his left, raises one hand and lays it on Bucky's shoulder. Bucky tenses automatically, but relax when he notice the move for what it is: a protective gesture. Steve doesn't want him ill, he just wants to protect Bucky.

"Okay, presentations," Steve says when the room has been covered by silence for slightly too long to be comfortable. He begins with pointing to the redhead and says, "This is Natasha, and that's Clint-" bow-guy "-Sam over there-" black-guy "-Thor, as he already said. That is Tony Stark." He gestures to tin man, who stands frigid, showing almost hatred. There is something familiar over him. "And last but not least, Bruce Banner." This time Steve gestures to a man standing in the corner that Bucky had somehow missed.

"Perhaps introductions the other way too?" Natasha says, although she must already know who Bucky is. Maybe she says it for the other's benefit.

"Right." Steve throws a glance at Bucky, biting his lower lip before turning back to the others. "This is Bucky Barnes, my best friend since childhood. Not, as previously thought, lost at the bottom of a ravine."

"Bucky Barnes?" the man in the back asked incredulous. "From the 40's? How's he-"

"HYDRA," Steve said slowly, reluctantly, "must have given him some form of the serum when..." He looked at Bucky, as if unsure what he could say. Bucky wanted to hear. "When they had him and the 107th imprisoned."

"So, what?" tin man — Tony Stark — says. "He wondrously survived the fall, HYDRA found him and decided to make him their personal assassin for like 70 years?"

"Yes, that's what they did," Steve says, more a growl than any real saying, "by way of brainwashing."

"That shit's though," Clint says, "and for 70 years too? Man, a week was bad enough. The guilt, man, that's worst."

"It's because you're not in control." The voice was quiet, but Bucky quickly located it to the man in the back — Banner. "You'd feel guilt for doing ... those sort of thing, but it grows worse when you had no control, but can still remember it happen. If you can remember it, shouldn't you have been in enough control to have stopped it?"

“Okay, fine,” Tony Stark says, dismissively, “he’s been through some shit, some brainwashing, but he’s still a  _ killer _ . He’s a weapon that you can’t put the safety on. And trust me, I know all about weapons. I’m not gonna let him run all around the tower! Also, are we really certain it's actually him? It could be some imposter pretending to be your old buddy.”

“That’s enough!” Steve’s voice, the anger, it makes Bucky want to shrink in on himself, but he stands up straight, stiff like a ramrod. That voice means punishment. The soldier knows punishment is supposed to be bad.

Steve takes the soldier’s hands and forcibly pulls him out of the room, walking down the corridor at an angry stride. The soldier doesn’t dare protest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ###### Translations
> 
> 3\. ( _Glupyy yebanyy idiot_ ) Stupid fucking idiot [back to text]


	4. Chapter 4

Steve's apartment is a few floors up, close to the top of the tower. The soldier notices on their way up, trying to ignore the hard grip on his flesh hand. The place is big and airy, not many walls dividing different rooms, but it feels claustrophobically small as soon as Steve shuts the door. At least he lets go of the soldier. The soldier goes to stand beside the couch, only ten steps from the front door. He makes his arms falls to his sides, his spine rigid waiting for order.

Steve walks past him and into the kitchen area with a sigh. He doesn’t speak to the soldier, doesn’t tell him what to do, so he stays.

Steve rumours through the fridge before taking something out. The soldier can’t see what it is, tries very hard not to show how tense he is. The soldier isn’t supposed to either show these things or even feel them. Punishment awaits if he shows even the slightest sign of it.

A drawer is opened and then comes the sound of metal clanging together. Knives, the soldier panickedly thinks, before forcing himself to drop it. No signs.

There’s more drawers being opened, but the soldier tries his best to tune it out. Half an hour goes by of metal scraping against porcelain and then Steve walks back right into the soldier’s line of sight. He’s walking with his head down towards the floor, but looks up as if sensing something. His eyes falls on the soldier and he startles. The soldier doesn’t understand the reaction, don’t know what to do or how to react to it.

Steve looks spoked for a moment more, silently staring at the soldier. Then he shakes his head and walks towards the soldier. “I’m sorry, I forgot, I— Are you hungry?”

The soldier remains silent. He’s sure that was a question, and therefore it can’t be directed towards him.

Steve looks at him a moment longer, as if waiting for him to say something, and then says, “Come, I’ll get you something to eat.”

He walks back to the kitchen and this time the soldier follows. There’s a few chairs on one side of a kitchen island that Steve makes a small hand motion towards, so the soldier goes to stand next to them. Steve opens the fridge and cupboard, taking out a few things. Then he takes them to the counter, does something, and when he turns back to the soldier, he has a sandwich in his hand.

“Here,” Steve says and holds out the sandwich.

The soldier takes it, still looking at Steve. Steve who seems to look expectantly at the soldier.

“Eat it. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

At the command the soldier raises the sandwich to his lips and takes a bite. It doesn’t taste anything, only crumbles under his teeth, getting moist from his saliva. He swallows before taking another bite. The process of chewing and swallowing takes the most of his attention, so he only has limited to give Steve. He knows that Steve is still standing there, not moving, which is enough for him to know. As long as the soldier is sure that Steve isn’t a threat.

Maybe… Steve, threat— The soldier had a mission here, right?

He can’t remember, can’t even get himself long enough time to try. The sandwich is climbing back up his throat. The soldier is fairly certain it isn’t supposed to do that.

It reaches his mouth, he can’t swallow it down, can’t keep it in his mouth. It’s thrown up in a mess of wet bread and goo on the kitchen island. The soldier retches, but nothing more comes out.

“Shit,” he hears Steve says, and there’s a hand on his back doing small circular movements.

Steve takes the sandwich from the soldier just as he’s about to take another bite. “I don’t think you should eat more,” Steve says, his eyes widened as if in panic. “You’ll only vomit again. Maybe you have to be careful with what you eat. Let’s go sit down.”

The hand on the soldier’s back pushes, leading him out of the kitchen, back to the couch the soldier stood by earlier. Steve presses on the soldier’s shoulder until he’s sitting down.

“Wait here, I’ll get you some water.” Then Steve is gone.

When he gets back he has a glass with clear liquid and a bucket. “Drink,” he says and holds out the glass. “You can spit in the bucket if you want to.”

The soldier takes a careful sip of the liquid. Steve isn’t his handler, it could be dangerous.

The liquid only tastes of metal, like blood on the tip of his tongue. It brings out another taste too, making the soldier retch again. Steve is quick with the bucket, but the only thing that comes out is the small sip of water.

“Drink some more,” Steve encourages him, “you’ll feel better.”

The soldier doesn’t think so, but he obeys the order and gulps down what’s left of the water. He doesn’t retch this time, manages to get it down. Steve smiles, as if that’s a great accomplishment.

“Get some rest while I clean up,” Steve says and stands up. He takes the empty glass with him but leaves the bucket on the floor.

The soldier closes his eyes, willing his body to follow the order.

~~~~~

The Asset can feel a hand on it’s shoulder. It shouldn’t be touched when it comes to, so it knows it’s not its handler. Without opening its eyes — without alerting the intruder that The Asset is awake — it shoots up its metal hand to grab hold of a neck. As the Asset throws the body hard to the floor it opens its eyes.

Under The Asset is a blond man, his features unlocking a reminder in The Asset. Its mission. There’s no handler around it, so that must mean that it’s time for the next part. The Asset’s actual part.

It tightens the hand around the man’s throat, watching as his face becomes more and more ashen.

“Bucky, please—” The voice is croaked, barely hearable, but The Asset thinks it might be coming from the man under him. Not enough pressure then.

“Bucky, it’s me—”

The Asset increases the pressure, and the man reaches up his hand as if trying to remove the metal hand.

“Buck—”

This time it’s the door banging open that interrupts him. The Asset looks up, but doesn’t remove the hand or the pressure. There’s a man in metal and a red-head in the door. They look competent. It might be a problem.

“Let go of him!” The man in the metal says, pointing a glowing hand at The Asset.

“Don’t,” the man under The Asset forces out.

The Asset needs to finish its mission and get back, which means it has to deal with these two new threats. It lets go of the man and rolls behind the couch. It can see the threats, but they can’t see it.

“Tony, don’t!” The blond man says, his voice way too steady for it to be normal. The Asset was only seconds ago almost crushing his windpipe.

“Steve, he tried to kill you again!”

Kill. Again. Had The Asset failed its mission earlier? Is that why the situation is like this?

The Asset doesn’t have any weapons, but the kitchen is close. There are knives there it can used, but it needs to be able to move there first.

It is in the middle of a move towards the kitchen when something stings in the back of its neck. The Asset spins around to see a shape in the ceiling that gets more and more blurry until The Asset can only see blackness.

**Author's Note:**

> Things will get better. Eventually.
> 
> Please tell me what you think (to motivate me to write to update quicker) :)
> 
> You can find me on tumblr: [jennypigalle](http://jennypigalle.tumblr.com) and [pigalleonwattpad](http://pigalleonwattpad.tumblr.com)


End file.
